


lost and found

by 2space_lesbo1



Series: Writing Miles content cause no one else will [11]
Category: Miles Morales: Spider-Man Comics, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Canon Compliant, Poisoning, The Assessor is a dick and i already hate them, Torture, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2space_lesbo1/pseuds/2space_lesbo1
Summary: Miles couldn't take this much longer.





	lost and found

**Author's Note:**

> look at me suddenly firing out fanfiction again. i'm dead for a couple months and then i explode again. i'm so sporadic. 
> 
> anyway the new miles comics are stressing me out, the assessor is a dick and i just want miles to be saved out of the situation he's in. i need my poor boy saved :( 
> 
> pls comment i need validation

Miles groans as the lights turn on once more, forcing his eyes open as he feels the horribly familiar presence projected beside him. “The subject will wake now for further assessments,” the Assessor states in their cold, dead voice. Miles looks at his projection in the corner of his eye, hardly even caring anymore. He's not even sure how long he's been here, but he's become numb to the thing that looks human and conducts “tests and assessments” on him like he was a rat. 

The cuffs and other pieces of equipment release their grip on him, and Miles sits up on the edge of the table he is forced to sleep on, his entire body aching. He wonders what experiments he's going to be put through today. Maybe a wall treadmill for five hours again. Or perhaps acid to his face like before. He shudders at the thought. 

The door slides open and he slides to his feet, the bright walls surrounding him nearly blinding him. He really wished they could turn down the light, it always hurt his eyes after being plunged in complete darkness for hours of “sleep”. 

But he stumbles through the door anyway, using a hand on the wall to his right to keep himself balanced. He finds himself stepping into a room, one he's been inside before, and before he could do anything- the shackles in the center too familiar, too frightening- hands are grabbing his wrists and pushing him down, locking him to the ground on his knees. He doesn't even attempt to pull at the shackles- he already knows for a fact he wouldn't be able to break them. All of their restraints seemed to be Spider-Man proof. 

The Assessor is standing over him now, that damned notepad in their hands as they stared down at Miles with a bored expression. Their black eyes give no hint of their emotion, and their pale skin contrasts starkly against the grey room. 

“Subject will now be dosed with multiple poisons to test his resistance to toxins,” the Assessor said aloud, and Miles grits his teeth, lowers his chin to his chest as more people enter the room. They're holding strange syringes that connect at the back to tubes that lead into the wall. 

He already knows that this is not a good situation for him. Then again, none of it has been since he was kidnapped and brought here in the first place. 

The other men begin to stick the different syringes into his skin, and he does his best not to flinch each time one goes in. He clenches his fists, fingernails digging into his skin through the fabric of his suit. Then, the men step back and liquid begins to pour into the needles from the tube and into his bloodstream. He could literally feel the forgein liquid enter into his blood, burning his veins and quickly traveling throughout his body. 

It only takes a few seconds for the liquid to get into his brain. And once it does, his back is arching and he is screaming at the top of his lungs, eyes burning and skin stinging. He wants to rip his eyes out, he wants to tear his skin off with his own fingers. 

But he can't. The metal of the shackles digs into his wrists, elbows and ankles, and he tries to use them, to drag them up and down his limbs and to make them rip the skin off. But he only manages to scrape bits and pieces off, blood falling into a puddle around him on the floor. 

He thrashes against the restraints, his entire body burning horribly. 

It lasts like that for what feels like an eternity. That is, until a door opens and Peter- dressed up as Spider-Man- leaps in, tackling the Assessor into the nearby wall. Miles’s entire body jolts to a stop and he locks his eyes on the red and blue suit, his pain forgotten as he takes in the sight of a familiar ally. The sight of someone he never thought he'd see again. 

With the Assessor now on the ground, unconscious, tears fill Miles’s eyes. “Peter!” he cried, a sob breaking through his throat. To see the man- or creature- that has been torturing him for so long knocked out was so… invigorating. It caused Miles’s body to relax before he could do anything about it, his mind filling with relief. Especially as his friend and hero walks towards him. He tugs at his restraints, some of the syringes pulling free. “Peter!” 

“Miles,” Peter said in return, and he kneels beside the other spider, masked eyes looking him up and down. “Oh my god, Miles. I finally found you!” 

“Yeah, yeah man!” Miles exclaimed, unable to stop the tears from continuing to fall. “Yeah, you did, you did! You found me!” He pulls at the cuffs again, the metal now slick with blood. “Now please,” he sobs again, his tone pleading, “get me the hell out of here.” 

Peter nods sharply and somehow manages to break the restraints(odd considering Miles had never been able to do so) and helps the other spider to his feet. Miles wobbles, but stays standing straight with the older man’s help. His arms and legs were still stinging, though the pain was much more dulled out by now. “Yeah, let's get you out of here,” Peter said in agreement, and Miles cries with new vigor. 

Miles leans against Peter, too tired to walk on his own, and lets the older spider lead him through many twists and turns of hallways. There are men and robots scattered about on the ground here and there, showing the fight Peter had to go through to get to Miles. He decides not to think about that. 

They reach a room Miles hadn't yet been in, and he can see a door brightly lit. It reminded him of the false door that had led to yet another door, and his heart stutters. His hopes had gotten so high that day, only to be shattered once more when the Assessor had told him it'd all been a cruel test. What if this was another one? 

But he looks up at the side of Peter’s masked face, and finds it difficult to believe this all to be fake. How could they get Peter, and how would they get him to play along? He never would. He was too good for that. 

With those thoughts in mind, Miles relaxes once more and allows Peter to push open the door. Fresh air hits his face and he shuts his eyes, lets out a laugh. 

That strains against his chest, causing pain to erupt beneath his skin once more. His eyes snap open and he's back in the room with the Assessor, who is watching him like always, and his limbs are still stinging, and the toxins are still being pumped into his system. 

Realization hits Miles like a two mile thick brick wall and his head flies backwards as he lets out a scream, tugging blindly and uselessly at his restraints. More blood pools around him, a red ocean against dull grey. 

It hadn't been real, or a test. It had all been in his head, a hallucination. 

\----

Miles isn't entirely sure of what happened next. His vision blurred and he'd hung his head, defeated, as they pumped even more toxins into his body, each bringing a new cacophony of pain, with seemingly no end. 

That is, until, Miles passed out, the pain becoming too much. 

He wakes once more on the metal table, the restraints and monitors and needles back in their places. The room is dark, and he stares into it, the only light coming from the small heart monitor strapped to his chest. If anyone were to stare at it, they'd see that it is at a normal rate, beating sluggishly as Miles realizes that there is no way out of here. He was stuck here to be tortured by the Assessor and their men, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

He just has to keep going along with the horrible experiments, if only to keep his friends and family safe. He'd do anything to keep them from coming to this hell on earth. 

The lights turn on about an hour later, blinding him once more. “The subject will now wake for continued assessment of resistance against toxins,” the Assessor’s bland voice fills the room. 

Miles begins to sit up slowly, his body still aching from the day prior’s “experiment”. He glances at the large projection of the Assessor, gritting his teeth as he begins to push to his feet. 

And that's when the alarms sound. 

He paused, glancing around in confusion as the projection flickers. “The subject will remain in containment,” they said, and then the picture turns off and the restraints are working to close back in place. He pushes to his feet before they could, however, his side hitting the wall. He hadn't been able to stand without being restrained or attacked in any way or form for the longest time, and so he was going to take the chance to do it now. 

The alarms continue screaming, and his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, the noise causing his head to split in pain. He's not sure of what's happening or what he should do, when the door is opening. He steps back, wincing in fear with the expectation that the Assessor would be standing there with their clipboard, prepared to set him through even more torture. 

But instead, it was a tall man dressed in red and blue and black, masked eyes locking on Miles’s face. 

No. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening. 

Miles steps further back, hitting the edge of the metal table as the man steps into the room, giving off an air of franticness. 

“Miles!” Peter exclaimed, relief and concern and desperatness all mixing into his tone at once. He steps closer, but Miles continues back, and now confusion costs the older spider’s voice. “Miles, what are you doing? We have to get out of here, now!” 

But Miles shakes his head, heart beating rapidly against his ribcage. He points an accusatory finger at what must be a hallucination because no, Peter couldn't be real. It wasn't possible. “N- no,” he stuttered, squinting at the masked face. The eyes on the mask narrow. “It can't be real. You're not real, are you? No, you can't be real. You're not here. I'm still stuck.” He shakes his head, unable to stop the tear from sliding from the corner of his eye. “I'm still trapped.” 

Peter pauses before shaking his head, throwing his hands out on either side of him. “No, Miles!” he said desperately. “I'm real, Miles. I'm here to save you!” 

“That's what I thought before,” Miles protested, backing up to the wall on the other side of the small room. The metal table is now between them. “But then you weren't real. None of it was real. I thought I got out, but I didn't. I was still… the Assessor still-” He cuts off, drawing a stuttering breath between his teeth. 

Peter pauses again, and then reaches up and tears the mask from his head, revealing his face to the terrified Miles. His eyes flicker momentarily to stare at the metal table between them, something akin to horror flickering in his gaze as he took in the restraints and multiple different tools there. Then he seems to shakes himself and returns his gaze to Miles. 

“Miles, please,” he said, and he sounded so much like Peter. The hallucination did, too, but this was different. It felt more… real, almost? He bites down on his lip. “I know I took long to find you. I am so sorry. I tried so hard to find you. But I'm here now. Now please, we need to get out of here.” 

He still doesn't move, but the words reach him, and he slowly nods. He needs to believe Peter, even if he was a hallucination in the end. Because what if he wasn't? He needs to believe there is a way out of this hell. 

He hesitantly walks forward, hissing with pain as the burning and aching in his limbs returns. He only now noticed the bandages wrapped around his arms, where the suit would also normally cover if it had not been shredded to pieces. Probably from when he tore his arms along the restraints before. His legs are in the same state, and Peter is looking him up and down, horror at his state. Probably including his face, since he was sure it was covered in scars and bruises from the other “assessments”. 

“They're threatening my people, man,” Miles said tiredly. “We can't let them hurt them.” 

“Don't worry,” Peter said, and he's smiling. And even though it looks forced, it comforts Miles. He wasn't alone after so, so long. “We’ll keep them safe. But first, lets get you out of here.” He scans Miles again and frowns in concern. “Can you walk?” 

Miles nods. “Yeah,” he replied. Peter nods in return and returns the mask to his face. At least one of them would have their identity hidden from the Assessor. 

“Okay. Come on, then,” Peter said. 

The older spider turns on his heels, and lets Miles step out first. The younger spider glances around the hall, finding it to be one he was unfamiliar with. He glances back to Peter, who nods encouragingly, and he continues on, keeping an eye out for killer robots and the Assessor. 

He doesn't see either. 

“Where are they…?” he asked aloud as they continue walking, Peter behind him, probably making sure he didn't fall over or pass out. 

“Where are what?” Peter asked. 

“The Assessor…” just saying the name caused a chill to travel down Miles’s spine. That man has done nothing but stood over him as he was tortured, causing every single wave and stick of pain. 

“Who?” 

Miles shakes his head, turning a corner Peter pointed to. 

And comes face to face with the thing that had brought him here in the first place. 

The blue, pulsating man punches him across the face before he could react, sending him into a nearby wall. He hits it with a grunt as Peter jumps into action. 

“The subject and the intruder will now be contained.” it was the Assessor's voice, and it broke through the sound of Peter fighting with the blue man and directly into Miles’s brain. Miles’s eyes widen and dart to a screen that had suddenly appeared on the wall, and the man’s pale face was there, staring forward blankly. “If not, disciplinary actions will be directed towards the subject’s associates.” 

“No no no,” Miles stuttered, and his gaze darts to Peter still fighting. “Spider-Man, they're gonna get my fam!” 

“No, they won't, Miles!” Peter called back, kicking the blue man in the back of his head. “Your uncle is there protecting them!” 

Miles’s eyes only widen even further, and he looks from the Assessor before looking back to Peter. His uncle was protecting everyone.. they'd be safe! 

He leaps into action with that thought. He wasn't held back anymore. He helps Peter to knock the blue man out with a blast of his venom, and they continue running through the halls. Peter, noticing his returned vigor and adrenaline, leads the way through the twisting halls. They are continually faced with drones and bots, and a few men, but they get through each road block. 

“The subject’s associates will now suffer the consequences of the subject’s punishment,” the Assessor informed, not seeming to be alarmed by the situation at all. Then again, he never seemed to be affected by anything. Miles pauses, glancing at the screen momentarily, before Peter grabs him by the wrist and begins to drag him. “The subject must return to his holding room.” 

“Miles will not!” Peter shouted angrily at the screen, continuing to drag Miles behind him. “Miles is leaving!” 

Miles bites his lip at the outright protest Peter shot at the Assessor. Ever since Miles has learned his place in this hell, he hadn't once yelled or shouted back at the Assessor. He took the punishments quietly so that his friends and family wouldn't have to. But, it seemed… invigorating to do it, even if he was still a tad frightened. But now without the threat of being hurt or anyone else being hurt, he wanted to do nothing but that. 

So, Miles steels himself and shouts, “I am leaving, and you can't stop me!” 

If he was still strapped to the table, he would have prepared himself for a shock of electricity or the crunching of the bones in his wrists and ankles. But because he was free, he merely laughed with joy. Until, that is, he noticed a change in the Assessor’s facial structure. 

They frowned. 

“The subject should know that he will be severely punished in the near future,” the Assessor told them, and Miles stops in his tracks, causing Peter to stop as well, even as the older spider appears ready to race straight to the ends of the earth to get them out of there. 

“Miles, come on, man!” Peter urged, but Miles still stares fearfully up at the Assessor. 

“The subject may escape now, but he will be returned to us for further assessment in the near future, along with his parents,” the Assessor continued, and Miles’s throat dried. 

That's when Peter throws Miles over his shoulder, causing the younger spider to yell out in protest. But Peter ignores him, and a few minutes later, they burst out into fresh air, into the sunlight, and Miles has to squint his eyes, unable to see in the sudden brightness after being in such dark rooms for what had to be weeks. He gasps, and pushes from Peter’s arms, looking up at the sun and sky and just breathing it all in because he was out. 

“Thanks Pete, really,” Miles said, emotion thick in his voice. “I didn't know how much longer I was gonna make it in there.” 

Peter forces another smile on his face- Miles could tell from the shifting of the mask. “Of course, Miles,” he replied. Then he's frowning again. “What the hell did they do to you in there?” 

Miles shudders as thought blasted by a cold breeze and averts his gaze, shaking his head. “I just wanna go home, man,” he said, completely avoiding the question. He never wanted to think about that hell again. “I'm still having a hard time believing any of this is real.” 

“Well then,” Peter said, placing a hand on Miles's shoulder. “Let's get you out of here.” 

“Best thing I've heard in weeks,” Miles said in agreement. Peter hands him a pair of spare webshooters and they take off. 

Leaving the Assessor behind them. Physically, anyway. Miles already knew he'd be in his nightmares and the darkest corners of his home.

**Author's Note:**

> ahk


End file.
